


After Image

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series: Image series, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair are still trying to recover from a second attack.<br/>This story is a sequel to Twisted Image.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Image

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with intense and disturbing subject matters.

## After Image

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: After Image  
Author: Grey  
Email address: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17 for language, sex, and disturbing content. Pairing:J/B  
Status: New, complete  
Date February 22, 1998  
Archive: Yes  
Archive e-mail: Grey853@aol.com  
Series: The fifth in the Image series. In order, they are "Public Image", "Self Image", "Changing Image", and "Twisted Image". Other website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them. They belong to others, but I still feel close to these guys. Who wouldn't? 

Summary: Blair and Jim are still trying to recover from a second attack on Blair's sanity and well-being. 

Notes: If you haven't read the other stories of the series, this may be a little difficult to follow in places. The stories are found at the archive. Necessary background. Blair was raped by Detective Young. After a long recovery, Blair was then kidnapped by Young's nephew Nathan Mapleton. This is the aftermath of the second assault. 

WARNING: This story deals with several intense and disturbing subjects--rape, recovery from trauma, and it also touches on child abuse. It uses explicit language and is not for those with overly genteel sensibilities. If any of those topics make you pale, then find something else to read. This one's not for you. Constructive comments are always appreciated. 

After Image 1/6  
by Grey 

"Jesus, Simon, look at this place." 

"Yeah. I'd forgotten how bad it was." 

Thousands of pictures of Blair Sandburg, thousands, in all sizes, some color, some black and white, plastered the walls of Officer Nathan Mapleton's bedroom. Most were candid shots obviously taken with a long range zoom lens. Shots of Blair at school, in the truck, heading into the station, standing on the loft balcony, all melded together to make a swirling, nightmarish collage. Any evidence of Jim Ellison at the young man's side had been covered up, cut or Xed out in dark red. 

Standing in the middle of the room observing the shrine for the first time, barbed Jim's flesh, tiny hooks digging along his arms. He stood there, jaw clenched, resolved to block his own images--Mapleton's naked body, Mapleton lying on the bed, legs spread, fixating, jacking off to the portraits of Jim's guide and lover Blair. Nothing he did could block the intense smell, the spiky scrape at the back of the throat, the itchy taunt of old semen. All reason clouded, he pounded his fist into the desk. 

"Settle down, Jim. Breaking your hand isn't going to solve anything." 

"We've got to get a team in here, Simon. We've got to use this to show intent. Premeditation. The son of a bitch isn't going to get away with this. I mean this must have been going on long before Young." 

"Team's already been here days ago while you were with Blair in the hospital. I just needed to show you in person to let you know what we're dealing with here." 

"Yeah, we're dealing with one sick fuck." 

"Sick is the word, Jim. I heard that his lawyer's going to use this to try to avoid trial." 

"No way, Simon. The man has to be prosecuted for what he did. My god, he killed two cops and almost killed Blair." 

"I know that. I also look around here and see what you should see, evidence of a very twisted individual. I mean, we found Johnson's tongue stashed in the closet with his ties for Christsakes. Besides, just think about it. If he goes to trial, Blair would have to testify." 

"No way, Simon. We've got plenty on him without that." 

"We both know what would happen, Jim. Defense and prosecution would insist, especially with Mapleton's claims about his relationship with Blair." 

"He's lying, Simon. Son of a bitch is lying through his teeth and everybody's listening to him. What the hell am I supposed to do?" 

"Best thing is to just stay calm. Don't let him goad you, and especially don't let him or any of the lawyers anywhere near Blair." 

Air closing in, Jim suddenly felt light-headed. "I've got to get out of here." He headed out of the room and down the front hall straight out to the yard. Struggling to breathe against the freezing wind, he barely heard his captain's approach. 

"You okay?" 

"No, Simon, I'm not okay. This is shit, you know that." 

"I know." 

"I can't believe he's been doing this for so long, taking pictures, stalking us. Why didn't I sense something, know something?" 

"How could you know? Nobody suspected anything like this." 

"But I should've sensed something. I mean, what good are these goddamn senses if I can't use them to protect someone I love?" 

"You're not superman, Jim. Give yourself a break on this one. There was nothing to suggest this kind of sickness. Nobody knew." 

"We can't let him get away with this. It's too much, even for me. It's too much. It'll kill Blair to go through all this. I'm just so damn tired of the whole thing. Why can't people just leave us alone?" 

A comforting hand rested on a weary shoulder. "Go home, Jim. I'll stay on top of things. You go home. You haven't slept in days. Go get some rest, and then go see the Kid later. He's going to need you more than ever." 

"Simon, it isn't right. I'm just so tired." 

"I know. Go home." 

Far too exhausted to even put up a fight, he did just that. 

* * *

People sounds nagged and scratched at his ears, chatter and laughter with phones in the background mixed with groans. Blair turned over, awake, but wanting to stay buried in his own personal version of darkness. Pulling the blanket higher, he felt the sharp pinch as he jostled the IV. The needle pains at the back of his head dulled to a flat ache. 

"Blair? Are you awake?" 

Recognizing the female voice, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes to the stinging brightness. "Hey, Doc. Guess Jim called you, huh?" 

Dr. Rachael Ames stood by the bed observing her client as he gradually dragged himself to semi-awareness. His pale complexion only emphasized the dark circles surrounding sunken blue eyes. Brown curls, wild and out of control, fuzzed shadow against the stark white of the hospital pillow. Lying there, he looked too much like a wounded child. 

"No, actually it was Simon. He told me what happened." 

"Yeah? Everything? 

"Well, everything that he could. He said you'd been kidnapped by Young's nephew and taken to the cabin where the rape occurred. He told me about the concussion and that Mapleton's now in jail being held on suspicion of two murders, kidnapping, and assault." 

"Pretty cut and dry, huh?" Blair squeezed his eyes shut against offending memory, as he battled to control his rebellious gut. 

"Hardly, Blair. We both know the concussion would be the least of the damage done by this whole experience." 

"Actually my head feels a lot better. I think they're just keeping me here to be safe, just in case my brain explodes or something. Could be way messy with brain everywhere." 

"Is that how you feel? Messy? Like your thoughts and feelings are scattered everywhere?" 

Blair snorted to himself and rubbed his forehead deep into the pillow. "Can't fool you, huh, Doc? Yeah, you might say I'm a bit confused. Nothing new there though. Ought to be used to it." 

"Blair, I want you to listen to me for just a minute, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Give yourself some credit. It hasn't been easy for you the last few months, but you've done an incredible job. You're very strong and even though I know it doesn't feel like it right now, this is going to get better." 

"You don't know that for sure." 

"But I believe it and you have to believe it, too. You've come a long way and you're going to be okay again. It's just going to take a little more time. I'll help and so will Jim." 

"I know. I'm just not feeling too on top of things right now." 

"No one expects you to be. Just give yourself some time." 

"I'll try." 

"Good enough." Dr. Ames sat down in the chair by the bed, still focusing on the young man struggling to stay awake. "Why don't you go ahead and get some sleep? I'm sure you could use it." 

"I will in a minute." Blue eyes suddenly focused and stared intently. "Doc?" 

"Yes?" 

"Could you go find Jim and talk to him for me?" 

"About what?" 

"I'm worried about him. He's really not taking any of this very well. He's off with Simon, but he blames himself a lot worse than last time. He's not acting right. I'm worried. I thought maybe if you talked to him, you could set him straight." 

"About what?" 

"About how not to feel guilty. About how it's not his fault." 

"I can try." 

"You've got to. He won't listen to me about it and if something were to happen to me, I'm afraid for Jim." 

An icy chill chipped at her chest. "Are you planning for something to happen to you, Blair?" 

"No, but I never planned for this either. See, I don't even have to bother hurting myself anymore. It just happens. Kind of saves me the trouble. Anyway, you need to work with Jim before he gets himself into anymore hot water." 

"What are you talking about, Blair?" 

"Well, he's got this temper and I'm afraid of what he'd going to do." 

"I'm not understanding this, Blair. What exactly are you saying?" 

"I'm saying Jim's really into control, but he's losing it. He's like really pissed big time, worse than before even. He hates what Nathan did and I'm afraid of what he might do." 

"Nathan? Is that Mapleton?" 

"Yeah. He told me to call him Nathan. Anyway, he's a really smart guy, but he's all twisted up and confused, just like me. Young was his uncle and he abused him, too, ever since he was a kid. Now, he's got it in for Jim for killing Young. I don't think he's going to try to shoot him or anything. Instead, he's going to push him into losing it somehow. If Jim falls into the trap, he's going to get into like way too much trouble." 

"This whole thing is a mess and I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to keep Jim from going off, you know. I just can't handle him right now. It's too much. He's too much." 

"Blair, we talked about this before. You're not responsible for controlling what Jim does." 

"I know that, but it feels like I need to do something. You don't know everything about him. He's not as strong as he acts. Control is the big thing with him and he can't control any of this. He hates that." 

"I'll work with him. I'll work with you, too, if you'll let me." 

Smiling weakly, Blair lost the battle with droopy lids as he barely whispered, "Okay, Doc. Just seems like old times all around, huh?" 

Sadly, Dr. Ames had to agree. 

* * *

Jim Ellison staggered into the loft, dropping his keys on the side table, missing the basket. He didn't bother to take off his jacket, but instead walked a little further before sagging down to the couch. Sinking there, he let his head fall back as he raised a tired hand to cover eyes squeezed shut against the assaulting light. He battled to dial down his overwhelmed senses, but found pounding sounds all around--motors roared from outside, water dripped in a loud bass, even the furnace blasted like jet engines. His skin burned from fighting scratchy cloth, while the smell of Blair's blood attacked once again. After scouring every inch of the kitchen, the coppery twang of pain still stabbed the back of his throat like a hundred needles dipped in melted pennies. Nothing he did removed or covered it, lingering there forever as a slap to remind him of failure, defeat at protecting the man he loved more than life. 

Groaning to himself, he tried to sink deeper, to somehow slip into sleep. He could remember seldom feeling so completely exhausted, both times in Peru. Once, right after the crash, he fought to survive for over a week, the physical and emotional drain almost too much to handle. The wounds bled him of his strength to think clearly, but not enough to stop the weeping for his lost friends. The tears cleansed him, yet he'd been ashamed of the weakness. Only Incacha helped him find the energy to understand his own healing. 

The second time he and a band of warriors traveled to the far reaches of the border only to be ambushed. Crawling back to the village through the jungle undergrowth, literally dragging himself and his only surviving friend Machec, he lost faith, in himself and in God. Failure, his familiar enemy, snarled in his face. His body poisoned by insect bites, infection leaking from the sores, he barely saved himself and his friend. Incacha came to the rescue again, reaching inside, directing him to his animal spirit, forcing him to face the terrible fear. 

Returning from Peru, he forgot so much, Incacha, the pain, the wonder, all of it, both blessing and curse. He needed to forget and his protective mind gave him the gift of mere whispers and shadows. Becoming a sentinel again changed all that. Real and unreal became the same. Memories bombarded him in his sleep, flashed on his dreams, dreams within dreams. Only Blair saved him this time, Blair his lover and his guide, his partner for life. 

Weary to his bones, he battled within to find the stamina to help Blair again. The rape had almost finished the young man, bringing back demons from an unstable childhood to join new torments, new fears. He watched Blair fight against the temptation to injure himself, to actually end it all. Over the past months he watched as his lover won back the light and found his way to his arms on his own. Cruel irony made a mighty fist and now the war raged again. The sentinel, defeated and lost, leaned forward into the sting of tears. 

* * *

The knock on the loft door banged like a splintered tooth wedged with a razor blade. "Who the hell is it?" 

"Jim? It's Dr. Ames. I need to talk to you. Please, open up and let me in." 

Wearily dragging himself up from the couch, Jim stumbled to the door. Rubbing his face roughly to compose himself, he took a deep breath before unlocking the deadbolt. "Hey, Doctor. Guess you'd better come in. Excuse the mess." 

Glancing around, she saw the immaculate loft, everything clean and in its place. Turning her focus to Jim, she saw a different picture. Oily hair and bearded face spoke to neglect. His face wrinkled with worry and fatigue added years to his normally solid features. She sniffed and asked, "Have you been drinking?" 

"I said you could come in, Doc. I didn't say you could start an interrogation. This isn't a session." 

"I'm sorry." She walked into the loft as he closed the door behind her, locking it again. 

"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" 

"Whatever you're having." 

"Funny, Doc. You want a beer, you can have a beer. Or, if you want coffee, I'll fix that." Stopping abruptly, his face twisted and he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. 

"Jim, what is it?" 

"Nothing, I just remembered. I can't fix any coffee right now." 

"It's no problem, but why can't you fix coffee?" 

The catch in his breath snagged the words as he spoke. "The coffee maker's broken. Somehow it got smashed in the kitchen when Mapleton attacked Blair. I haven't had time to replace it. Sorry. Glass and blood everywhere, you know. I mean, I've tried to get it up, but I can still smell it. His blood, Blair's blood, it's..." 

"It's okay, Jim. Forget the drinks. Let's just sit down for a minute." 

"I'm sorry. I just need to sit down." Disoriented, Jim turned a full circle before deciding to head for the sofa. 

After he finally settled, Dr. Ames asked, "Jim, I need to ask you some things. Are you listening to me?" 

"I'm listening. You could whisper a block away and I could listen." 

"What?" 

"Never mind. What did you want to ask?" 

"How long has it been since you actually got any sleep?" 

Concentrating really hard, Jim's face scrunched up. "Couldn't say. It's been awhile, but I'm all right. Really. I used to go for weeks in the jungle without sleeping. That's what this feels like. I'm on guard in the jungle. Got to protect Blair." 

"Jim, you need to sleep. You said you were drinking beer before. How many have you had?" 

"Only been home an hour. Only had two so far." The words slurred off an awkward tongue. 

"You're sure it's only two?" 

"Yeah. Don't worry. I'm not drunk. I'm just tired." 

"Then I want you to try sleeping. I could give you something mild just to take the edge off, or I could just sit here until you go to sleep." 

"Baby-sit you mean." 

"No, help out a client in trouble." 

Jim looked over, his eyes clouded and confused. "Why are you here, Doc? Is Blair okay? Stupid question. Of course, he's not okay. Fuck. You know he's going to need you again. He'd just gotten down to once a week. God, I hate this." 

"I know, but we're both here to help. Right now I want you to think about yourself. Blair's worried about you. So am I. You can't keep going without sleep. Beating yourself up with guilt doesn't help, Jim." 

"I know. Deja vu. Seems like I keep going in circles and coming back to that same old demon, huh?" 

"Seems like, but that's okay. We'll work on it, but first you have to get some rest. You're almost too tired to talk." 

"Okay, but you don't have to stay. In fact, I won't rest if you're here. I'll know you're down here and won't be able to relax. I know it's dumb, but I just can't seem to get off guard duty." 

"It's all right. I understand." 

"I'll sleep and then call you later. I can't think straight right now." 

"Promise to call me if you need to talk. And promise me that you won't do anything rash." 

"Rash? Like what?" 

"Blair's afraid you'll lose your temper and go after Mapleton." 

"Yeah? Well, sure I'd like to kill the puke. Should've killed him when I had the chance, but I didn't and now I have to live with it. Don't worry. I don't plan to go anywhere near that asshole unless I have to." 

"You're sure?" 

Reaching a heavy hand over to pat her arm, he just nodded. "Yeah, Doc, I'm sure. I'm not ready to totally self-destruct yet. I mean, I've got to take care of Blair, right? That's too damn hard to do from behind bars. So, go on back to the office and don't worry. I'm okay and if I need you, I'll call. Fair?" 

"Fair. Are you going to get some sleep now?" 

"Sure." Dr. Ames got up and headed toward the door. Turning back, she said, "Things will look a lot clearer when you've rested." 

Locking the door behind her, Jim leaned heavily against the wood. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he fought off a wave of dizziness. "Sleep? These days? I seriously doubt it. Sorry, but not without my guide, Doc." 

Pushing himself forward, he headed down the hall to shower. Maybe if he scrubbed long enough, he could at least escape the sour smell of failure. Unfortunately, the hot water never lasted even close to what he needed. Eternity didn't seem long enough to cleanse his guilt. Damn, how he hated the stench of self-pity. 

* * *

Swimming up from a sweltering darkness, Blair clutched at the sweat-soaked sheets, a scream barely held between clenched teeth. His back ached fiery ripples deep into sore flanks. Pulling up his legs, he curled himself inward. Pain danced with a malicious rhythm, his back and head pounding counter beats on a tight, fleshy drum. 

A cold hand touched the IV at his wrist and he flinched. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you like that. I thought you were already awake." 

"Who are you?" Fighting to clear steam-clouded vision, Blair saw a middle-aged man with dark hair and tight, narrow features. Dark brown eyes stared into his, but he couldn't focus. Everything wobbled, feinting right, then left. He held on to the bed rail to steady against he sensation of falling. 

"I'm Dr. Norman. I've been asked to consult on your case. How are you feeling right now?" 

"Why is it so hot in here?" 

"It's not hot really. You've got a fever. Do you have any pain?" 

"My head still hurts, but now my back burns. I feel dizzy. What's going on?" 

"Your back burns? Does it hurt, too?" 

"Yeah, it sort of throbs. Pressure and fire. Man, I don't feel so good. Where's Jim?" 

Sensing a growing agitation, Dr. Norman, reached out, only to have Blair jerk away. "Don't touch me, man. Who are you?" 

"I'm your urologist. You've picked up a UTI,..." 

The jabber vibrated through his skull, but the words made no sense, running together like gibberish skimming across thin filmy air. The heat now turned icy, and his arms fell away, heavy from the weighted chill. Breathing brought hammers of fire against his back, tensing his muscles against bone, tendons stretching skin. God, he wanted to go home. 

"Where's Jim?" 

"Who's Jim?" 

"He's my partner. I need to go home. I want to see Jim." 

As rising panic fevered his words, he couldn't hear the doctor call for the nurse. The heat of new medicine flushed his arm, and he fell into a deep well of desert quiet. All around swirling veils of blankness cupped the base of his neck as he drifted into pressing space. 

* * *

"What do you mean I can't see him? I'm his partner? I've been here since the beginning. What's going on?" 

"Detective Ellison, lower your voice." The no-nonsense tone broke through his rant, and he stilled his pacing along with his words. 

"I'm sorry, Nurse Baker, I just need to know what's going on. He's my partner." 

"I know that. I'm sorry, Detective, but the doctor's with him and you just have to wait. He'll tell you want you need to know. You know I can't. We've been through this before." 

Frustrated, running a tense hand across his dry, cracked lips, he tried breathing deeply to calm his growing fears. Just as he started to speak, he heard a new voice behind him. "You must be Jim." 

Tuning he found himself faced off with a new doctor. "Yeah, Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD. And you are?" 

"Dr. Norman. I take it you're Mr. Sandburg's partner. Funny, I thought he was a teaching Fellow at the University." 

"He is, but he's also a police observer. I thought Dr. Anderson was Blair's doctor. What's going on? Has something else happened?" 

"Let's go over here and talk, Detective." 

After being seated in a cubicle near the waiting room, the doctor explained, "Your partner's picked up a severe urinary tract infection, possibly from the catheter we used when he was first admitted. He was unconscious for three days and it's not really that unusual for this kind of thing to happen. I've been called in to keep an eye on it, because of the kidney involvement. I've started antibiotics and analgesics for the pain. They just haven't kicked in yet. He's running a fairly high fever, but it's not a serious concern. We just need to keep him here awhile longer than we first planned to be sure the infection's under control." 

"Wait a minute here, Doc. Are you telling me he's got this infection because of something done to him here?" 

Noting the flush and the strained tone, Norman tempered his own words. "I'm saying it's not uncommon when a patient has a catheter for any length of time for an infection to occur. I believe the treatment will take care of it." 

"You believe? I don't get it. He had a catheter back in October for almost a full week and didn't have any problem like this." 

"Yes, but at that time, Mr. Sandburg was already being treated with massive does of antibiotics because of peritonitis brought on by trauma." 

Jim sat back hard against the chair, shaking his head, almost mumbling to himself. "He doesn't need this. It's just one more thing to fight against." Then as if remembering the doctor's presence for the first time, he asked, "What about the head injury?" 

"His neurologist has released him. This infection should be cleared up in a few days. After that, I can switch him to oral meds, and he can go home as long as he promises to come back in for a check up." 

"Don't worry. I can get him here for check ups. I just want to get him out of here." 

"I understand. Looking at your partner's records, I can see he's had a rough few months." 

"Yeah, you might say that. So, can I see him?" 

"He's sleeping, which if you'll pardon me for saying so, it looks like you should be doing, too. When exactly did you last sleep, detective?" 

"Don't worry about it, Doc. I'm fine." 

Cocking his head, the physician studied the man before him. Dark bruises circled each pale, blood-shot blue eye and taut jaw muscles twitched erratically. Shoulders stiff and posture straight, the body lines held a subtle tremble like a wire stretched ready to break. "I don't know you, Detective Ellison, so I don't know how you usually look, but I am a doctor, and I do recognize exhaustion and extreme stress when I see it. As an officer of the law and as Mr. Sandburg's friend, you should take care not to push yourself too far. You don't do anybody any favors by collapsing." 

Gritting his teeth, he fought to release the words with a civil tone. "I said I was fine. Just take care of my friend." 

"Certainly, detective, I intend to, but you might as well go home for the night and get some sleep. He's sedated and doesn't really need any visitors right now anyway. He needs to rest and give the antibiotics a chance to work." 

Pain played across his features, tiny steps and trips. "Did he ask for me?" 

"Yes, but, like I said, he's sedated right now." 

"I want to see him." 

"He's asleep. He won't even know you're there." 

"Yes, he will. He'll know. I need to see him." 

Caution tapped a warning at the back of his mind. "You need to rest, detective. Go home and come back in the morning." 

Hissing against ignorance, he argued, "I can sleep in the chair by the bed, but I need to be there in case he wakes up. You don't understand, doctor. He has nightmares sometimes." 

"Oh, I see." A mental light switched on. "I take it that you're more than Mr. Sandburg's police partner then?" 

"You take it correctly. Is that a problem for you?" 

"A problem? No, no reason why it should be." Tenderness broke through, as the doctor finally remembered the rest of the medical report he held in his hand. Controlling his own shivers, he gave in. "Okay, I can let you stay, but, I want you to promise to try to sleep and not to give the nurses a hard time." 

"A hard time, me? Never." 

"Oh, then I guess it must be all those other Jim Ellison's that the night nurses complain about." 

"They complain about me?" 

"Sure. Seems you think Mr. Sandburg's the only patient they have." 

"Well, maybe I do tend to get a bit surly in the middle of the night." 

"The word they use starts with the same letter, but I don't think it was that one. Anyway, just try to get some sleep, and hopefully by morning we'll see a marked improvement in your friend's condition." 

Turning to leave, Jim hesitated. "Dr. Norman, is there anything else I can do to help?" 

"Just don't make yourself sick helping and you'll be all right." Then the man turned and walked away. 

Jim muttered, "Well, hell. Easy for you to say, Doc. You don't have Blair Sandburg as your guide." Suddenly he hungered to stroke Blair's fine face and wallow in the netting of familiar heartbeats. Anxious to touch his lover, to caress familiar skin, he hustled briskly down the hallway, boldly hoping to stop choking on his own anger and fear. 

* * *

Eyelids fluttered to morning and Blair Sandburg woke up. "Hey, Chief, glad to see those baby blues again." 

A sleep-thick voice answered. "Nice to see you, too, Jim. Man, you look like shit. What've you been doing, sleeping in the chair again?" 

"Guilty. So, how you feeling?" 

"Weak. My back hurts. I don't get it. I get bashed in the head and my back hurts. Hell, my whole body hurts. Man, this being sick thing sucks." Groaning as he tried to turn, he whined, "Hey, man, help me sit up here. Somebody's hiding the button thingy." 

For Blair grumbles meant improvement. Smiling at his lover's fussy mood, Jim stood up and reached down by the side of the bed. "Hold on, Babe. It's right here." 

"Hey, man, why are the rails up and locked? I have to go." 

"Sorry, Chief, hold on. The nurse told me they need a sample. Let me get her for you."  
The hum of motor raising the head of the bed stopped. "A sample? Oh, great. Pee in a cup, nothing better to start the day." 

"At least your fever's lower." 

"Fever? What fever?" 

Concern creased his features. "Don't you remember being sick yesterday?" 

"I remember my back burning like a son of a bitch, but actually, it's all kind of a blur. Man, you really need to get the nurse in here before I make a mess." 

"Right away, Chief." Stepping into the hall, he motioned for the nurse. A young woman in her twenties headed his way. "He's awake." 

"Really? Good. Why don't you wait out here. We'll be done in just a few minutes." 

"Sure. No problem." Just as he started to head for the coffee machine, he heard a familiar voice. 

"Hey, Jim. How's the kid doing?" 

"Hey, Simon. He's better. The nurse is with him." 

"I thought he was supposed to come home today?" 

Trudging to the vending machine, Jim searched around awkwardly in his pocket for change. "You got any quarters?" 

"Yeah, here, let me get it. Go sit down before you fall on your face. Jesus, Jim didn't you sleep at all last night?" 

Flopping into one of the chairs, he accepted the hot paper cup. Fingers trembling, he brought the bitter liquid to his lips and burned his tongue. The rawness of it woke him. "Blair, has a kidney infection. He's going to be here a few more days." 

"Damn. How in the world did that happen?" 

"Doctor said it wasn't uncommon when they use a catheter." Sudden flickers of red and blue sparkled spikes behind his right eye. An involuntary groan and flinch brought Simon's hand to his shoulder. 

"Jim, are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. Just a headache. I'll be all right." 

"Funny, you don't look fine. Dr. Ames called me. Said she was concerned about you. She also said you promised to get some sleep. Looks like you fooled her, huh?" 

"Come on, Simon. Let's go see, Blair. He's really doing a lot better this morning." 

"Better than you, I hope." 

"Lay off, Simon." 

"I will if you let me. Jesus, Jim how are you going to help Blair if you fall on your ass?" 

Whirling with a flash of anger, Jim grabbed the front of Simon's jacket, fully ready to fight. It took several paralyzed moments to realize what he'd done before he released his friend and fell back. "Jesus, I'm sorry." 

Shocked, but calm, Simon spoke evenly. "You're off duty and on medicla leave until I feel like it's safe for you to be on the job. You can't work this way, Jim, and you can't do yourself or anyone else any good." 

"I know, Simon. I just can't sleep. There's too much going on, too much that could happen." 

"And you think driving yourself like this will save anyone? Jim, you should know better. Look, let's go see Blair and then I'll drive you home." 

"I need to stay here." 

"And do what? Hover. Hell, if I have to, I'll tell the kid." 

"You wouldn't." 

"Watch me." 

"I guess playing hardball is how you made captain." 

"You bet your ass. Now, come on, let's go see Sandburg and then get you home to bed." 

"As long as it's not your bed, sir. Nothing personal, but I'm spoken for." 

"Shut up, Jim. You're delirious." 

* * *

Awakening from his third nap of the afternoon, Blair turned over to his right side hoping not to jar anything essential. The muscle stiffness and headache eased considerably to only a slight burning bunched stubbornly at his back. He still felt groggy from drugs and fever, but he worked it like a cushion against a nagging world. Settling his head back into the stiff pressure of the pillow, he thought about Jim sleeping, curled up at the loft alone. He wished he could be there, spooned into his sentinel's cozy lap, his head nestled against broad chest. He imagined warm, wet kisses trailing down his neck. God, he loved Jim's talented and versatile tongue. 

An unwelcome and sudden knock rousted him from his reverie. 

"Mr. Sandburg?" 

"Yeah?" A thin bald man about forty stood in the doorway. His briefcase and dark gray suit screamed official. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Dave Hawthorne, Nathan Mapleton's lawyer." 

His heart stuttered before he could speak. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I was hoping we could talk." 

"Hope again. You're not supposed to be here. Leave." 

"Please, just give me a few minutes. I have an important proposition that could save you a lot of trouble." 

"I don't think this is a good idea." 

"Just hear me out." 

Shutting his eyes, strapping down the panic, Blair breathed deeply. After a few moments, he whispered. "All right. But if I hear something that pisses me off, you're out of here." 

"Agreed." Hawthorne came and sat down next to the bed, placing the briefcase at his feet. "I take it you're doing better." 

"No thanks to your client." 

"Yes, well, Nathan's sorry about that. He told me he hadn't meant to hurt you." 

"I suppose he didn't mean to kill the two cops either?" Blair voice shook. 

"He allegedly killed two police officers." 

"Like he allegedly gave me a concussion and kidnapped me?" 

"Nathan isn't well, Mr. Sandburg. He knows what he did to you was wrong and he's sorry for it, but you of all people should understand why he did it." 

"What the hell are you talking about? Why would you say something like that?" 

"Well, I know about his uncle and your attack. I know that both you and Nathan suffered at that man's hands. Surely you know what that kind of treatment can do to the mind." 

Shivering, Blair pulled the blankets higher. "I never went out and hurt anyone else." 

"No, but Nathan has been repeatedly abused since childhood and has a lot of anger about what happened. He also says that he forgives you for rejecting him." 

Blair stared at the man as if he'd lost his mind. He spoke in a low, dangerous tone, a wound for each word. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Well, Nathan told me that you two had been lovers until Ellison came into the picture." 

"Man, he really is crazy." Blair fell back against the pillow, almost too tired to speak, but he forced himself. "Does Jim know that Mapleton's been saying this shit?" 

"Probably. I'm sure he's also read the letters." 

"What letters?" 

"My client has a whole collection of, shall we say, erotic love letters he swears he both wrote and received from you." 

"No way, man. I never wrote anything like that." 

"Are you saying he's lying?" 

"Of course, he's lying. He's a freak, a dangerous, delusional asshole who, for whatever reason, wants to totally fuck up my life." 

"Why would he lie about it?" 

"Come on, counselor, how hard is it for a murderer to lie? Man, are you a dumbfuck or what? Listen up. I never saw Nathan Mapleton before he showed up and attacked me at the loft. This whole business with the letters is some twisted fantasy. You buying into it doesn't help save his sorry ass. He needs to be locked away somewhere. Whether it's in a prison or a hospital, I don't really care at this point. Any sympathy I might have had for the man is dead. I just want the whole business over with." Anger punched out the last words. 

After a few moments, Hawthorne said, "I can help with that." 

"How?" 

"I didn't really believe Nathan when he told me about you. You're right. He is dangerous and delusional, but he's also convincing, because he actually believes what he's saying at the time. He's come up with all kinds of scenarios to run past a judge, everything from you being an accomplice to Jim Ellison framing him for the murders because he was jealous of Nathan's affair with you." 

When Blair started to speak, Hawthorne raised a staying hand. "Hear me out. Nathan's also said he'd be willing to waive trial and submit to a competency evaluation and hearing. There's no doubt in my mind he'd go into a hospital for an undetermined period if you'd be willing to talk to him once before he went." 

A tight whisper came from the bed. "Man, I am so not ready to do that." 

"I understand your hesitation, but I urge you to think about it awhile before deciding to say no. If you don't meet with him, as his lawyer, I'd be forced to try to do everything I could to win his release. I wouldn't want to have to use those stories Nathan mentioned, but I might have to. Even though the letters he says are from you are typed, it's his word against yours that you never wrote them. Their explicit homoerotic nature would certainly cause some jurors to have doubts against your credibility considering you are, in fact, in a relationship with Detective Ellison." 

"Man, I can't believe I'm hearing this shit." 

"Believe it, Mr. Sandburg. It's my job to protect my client, and I do my job very well. The overwhelming physical evidence is against my client, so if I did have to go to court, you'd have to testify about what happened both with Nathan and with his uncle. I'm sorry, but it's pertinent to my client's actions." 

"Son of a bitch." The words hissed with hate. 

"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really think you should consider seeing him. It could save yourself a lot more heart ache, not to mention nasty publicity." 

Barely able to form words, Blair's voice thickened with frustration. "How could I be sure that he wouldn't change his mind after he saw me?" 

"Because I'm a good lawyer. I would see to it that he'd go to the hospital. In all honesty, it's where he really belongs." 

"Let me think about it." 

"No problem. If I could hear from you in a couple of days, that would be great." 

"Why don't you let me get out of the damn hospital first?" 

Looking suddenly awkward, Hawthorne stood up and handed Blair a card. "Certainly. I'm sorry. Just give me a call as soon as you decide." 

"I said I'd think about it." 

"That's fine." Opening his briefcase with quick snap, Hawthorne pulled out a white envelope. "I almost forgot. I need to give you this, too." 

"What is it?" 

"Nathan wrote you a letter." 

"Get out of here, Hawthorne, and take that thing with you." 

Ignoring Blair's statement, he placed the letter on the side table and closed his briefcase. "I'll just leave it here. You don't have to open it. I just have to say I delivered the thing." 

Clearing his throat and straightening his already straight tie, Hawthorne said quietly, "I really am sorry for all this, Mr. Sandburg. I truly believe that if I can set up a deal, we could all avoid a lot of misery." 

"Misery? Yeah, well, misery sucks, but you get used to it." As the lawyer left, Blair sank down deeper into the bed and drew the covers up over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could and screamed his thoughts into empty space. Hell, Jim would go out of his mind over this one, that is if his guide didn't beat him to it. 

* * *

Fevered heat blasted Jim's senses even before he entered the room. A glassy-eyed Blair stared over at him as walked to the side of the bed. His voice sounded rusty and weak. "Hey, Big Guy. Feeling better?" 

"Yeah. I actually managed to sleep some. How you doing, Chief?" 

"Okay, I guess." Touching his fingers lightly to his lover's warm brow brought an involuntary moan. "Oh, man, that feels good. Do that again." 

"No problem, Babe." Tracing a soothing pattern across the sweaty forehead eased the tension lines, but sizzled overly sensitive fingertips. "Your fever's back, huh?" 

"Yeah. Got more medicine in me than the local pharmacy. Something's bound to start kicking some ass pretty soon. Hope it's germ ass though instead of mine." 

"Me, too." 

"I want to go home." He closed his eyes as he spoke. "I'm really tired of this place, Jim." 

"I know, Babe. Just as soon as the fever's gone, we're out of here. Has the doctor been in while I was away?" Moving his hand to a slightly bearded cheek, he caressed Blair's hot jaw with his palm. 

"Dr. Norman? Oh, he's a winner all right. Threatened me with tests if I didn't get better soon, like I was sick on purpose and could do something about it." Sitting back up, Blair straightened his covers around his lap, petulant and impatient. 

"What kind of tests?" 

"Kidney tests, I guess. I don't know. I'm an anthropologist, not some medical guy. Silly bastard made some crack about me being underweight, too. Hell, he should've seen me before I started packing on the pounds last month." 

Noting Jim's grimace, Blair shook his head. "Don't even say anything, Jim. You know how I feel when you start saying I'm too thin." 

"Didn't say a thing, Chief." 

"Yeah, but you were thinking it. I wish people would just lay off. I'm not that thin. Besides, that's got nothing to do with me getting this infection anyway." 

"Maybe you were just run down." 

"Well, I feel like I've been run down by a truck. Jesus, everything just feels heavy and sore. I won't even mention how it burns like a son of a bitch when I have to go." Turning his attention back to Jim, Blair focused on clear blue eyes. "You, on the other hand, certainly improve with sleep." 

"Yeah? Well, it was either that or Simon was going to sit on me. Even threatened to handcuff me to the bed. Scared me. You know he has a real thing about control." 

"Well, that's like the kettle calling the pot black." 

"Don't let Simon hear you say that." 

Chuckling slightly, Blair grabbed his stomach in pain. "Oh, man, don't make me laugh. It hurts too much." 

Concern highlighted his features, as Jim placed a sentinel's hand on his friend's abdomen. The muscles pressed back tight. "You tell the doctor you felt like this?" 

"It's not a big deal. I'll be okay as soon as the kidneys start up full force again." 

Not entirely satisfied, Jim made a mental note to check with Norman a little later. In the meantime he decided to sit down. "You had dinner yet, Chief?" 

"As much as I could stomach. Why, you hungry?" 

"No, just wondered." Noticing the droopy lids, he prompted, "Go on and nap, Babe. You need to rest as much as you can. Maybe the fever will be gone when you wake up." 

"Hope so." 

Watching his young man snuggle back under the covers, gave Jim a comforting warmth. Scanning the room while still listening to the steady rhythm of breathing and heartbeat, he noticed the unopened envelope and business card by the bed. Curious, he reached over, but stopped as soon as he saw the handwriting. He'd read enough of the vulgar fake letters Mapleton had in his house to recognize the scrawl. 

"Jesus, Blair, what the hell is this?" 

A slightly muddled voice asked, "What?" 

"Who brought you this letter?" 

"Oh, man, that." Pulling himself upright again, Blair rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. "Mapleton's lawyer came by." 

"Fuck. I should've been here." Standing, he paced the room frantically. 

"You needed to sleep. It's no big deal." 

Exasperated, Jim argued, "How can you say that? You shouldn't be bothered by that puke, especially while you're still in here." 

"It's okay, Jim. Calm down. I was upset at first, and I mean really upset. I almost called Dr. Ames, but after I let myself do a little primal scream therapy, I got over it. Besides, why didn't you tell me about what Mapleton was up to?" 

Stopping, he cocked his head. "What are you talking about, Chief?" 

"Come on, Jim. I thought we were through with hiding stuff to protect each other. We talked about this. You know it doesn't help in the long run." 

"I know." His voice shook like a small boy's in a high wind. 

"I mean I needed to know that he was saying all that shit. No wonder you've been acting like such overprotective bear since I woke up from being bonked on the head. You didn't want me to find out he was lying and telling everyone we'd been lovers." 

Settling back down to the chair, shoulders sagging, Jim spoke quietly. "I couldn't tell you that, Blair." 

"Why not? We both know it's not true." 

"I know, but not everybody else does." 

"Man, anybody who'd believe that shit obviously doesn't know either of us and the rest, well, they don't matter." 

His words grew husky with frustration, anger, and tears. It hurt to speak. "I know, Chief. In my mind I know, but in my heart I didn't want anybody to think that about you. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay, Jim. Come here." Reaching out his arms, he wrapped himself around the larger man, hugging him into his fevered chest. Stroking the soft hair, he crooned comfort into his ear. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to be okay. I promise. We can handle this." 

"I'm sorry." 

"I know, Jim. Love you." 

"Love you, too, Blair." After a few moments, ragged breathing back under control, Jim pulled back. Rubbing the back of his hand along his guide's cheek, he grinned. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you here, Babe, and here you are holding my hand like I'm a big crybaby." 

Smiling almost shyly, eyes still glazed, Blair nuzzled his face into the strong hand. "It works both ways, Jim. I know I'm tired right now and my thoughts are all squishy from this fever, but I've been thinking about us a lot today." 

"Yeah? You have another epiphany?" 

"Not really. I just know I'm tired of being scared all the time. Frankly, I'm a little bit pissed, too. What right do all these people like Mapleton and his lawyer have to screw around with our lives? None, that's what." 

"You're sounding all tough, Chief. I like that." Smiling broadly for the first time in a week, he nudged, "Hey, damn shame you're in the hospital. You're making me hot, and I'm not talking about the fever here either." 

"Oh, man, you are so bad, Jim. Behave. Anyway, I decided no matter what happens we can handle the sorry bastards. I'm stronger now." 

"When you talk like that, I believe you." 

"You better." Taking a deep breath, his hands slightly shaky, Blair pulled Jim in for a brief kiss. Silky heat pressed against dry lips, tongues teased tip to tip. Pulling back, he let himself fall deep into the pillow. "Now, either go home and rest or go to sleep in the chair, but I can't keep my eyes open another minute." 

Watching Blair drift almost immediately into feverish slumber, Jim settled for the chair. Sentinel senses, love-enhanced, monitored the readings with a diligence medical science would never match. 

* * *

"No way, man. I should be out of here by now." 

"Relax, Chief. Let the doctor talk for a minute, okay?" 

Reluctantly, Blair tried to calm down, but his heart pounded like angry fists against the close walls of his chest. 

"And as soon as we're sure the infection is under control and I'm sure your kidneys are functioning adequately, you'll be home. But, right now, you're still running a fever and some of your test results don't really allow me to think you're ready to leave just yet. Granted, I do see an improvement, but we have to be careful." 

Blair beat his open palm against the bed rail. "Well, I guess that's something anyway." 

"I know you're frustrated, but kidney failure is not something we want to risk here." 

Frightened blue eyes fled to meet Jim's, but just for a heartbeat. Then Blair turned back to focus on Dr. Norman. "Kidney failure?" 

"Yes. Did anyone mention to you during your admission in October that your right kidney showed a high level of atrophy and lack of function?" 

"No. What exactly does that mean in terms of what's happening now?" 

Putting the chart on the side table, Dr. Norman shifted his position closer to the bed. Jim stood on the other side facing him, watching every move intently as his jaw painfully twitched. The physician's voice steady, he tried to explain. "Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. Your left kidney compensates for the much lesser function of the right. But, now along comes this infection, so everything has to work harder. That could be why it's taking a little longer than I first expected to control this. I'm still confident that with antibiotics and plenty of rest, you should still return to acceptable levels of function." 

"And what if I get worse?" 

"There's no reason to ride a dark horse, Chief? You're getting better already. Your fever's a lot lower than last night." 

"I know, Jim, but I need to know, okay?" 

"Okay. I'm sorry." 

"It's all right, but Dr. Norman, what happens if this thing doesn't get any better?" 

"There are several options for treatment. Right now let's just work on kicking this infection and doing some diagnostic work. What I want to do now is to keep you on the medication at a slightly higher dosage and to do a 24-hour collection along with several blood tests so that we can be sure to both monitor input/output, and to also check the progression of your overall kidney function." 

His voice trembled slightly. "So, based on the next 24 hours, you'll decide whether I need further treatment other than medication? Are we talking dialysis here or what?" 

"That's possible, but unlikely. People can live normal lives with as little as 10 or 15 percent of kidney function, though that's cutting it very close on my watch. I don't think your problem is quite that bad, but, then again that's why I want to run more tests. We'll do a renal profile by doing another kidney panel. That's just several tests based on blood and urine. I'll get you both some literature to read, so you can put your minds at rest about what I'm doing, okay?" 

Nervously Jim asked, "So, you're saying we'll know whether Blair's kidneys are okay within the next 24 hours?" 

"That's what I'm saying, yes. But, like I said, I'm hopeful this is all precaution. I just haven't liked this infection hanging on so long. I've scheduled more tests just to be sure. Call me over cautious, but better safe than sorry, right? If these tests aren't enough, we can do some others, but I'm hoping a biopsy or IVP won't be necessary. We just have to be patient." 

"Easy for you to say, man. You're not wearing a gown that leaves way too little to the imagination." Blair shifted uncomfortably in the bed, careful not to pull on the IV. 

"You're right. I've got the easy part in all this. Now, what I need you to do, Mr. Sandburg, is to just try to relax and rest. I know this is a stressful time for you, but it's really important that your main focus be on healing." 

"I'll try." Blair's voice, colored with fear, sounded small. 

"Good. Now, I'll be back this evening to check in." As he picked up his charts, he hesitated before heading out. "Try not to worry so much, Detective. He's going to be fine." 

Embarrassed, Jim blushed, "Yeah, I know, Doc." 

"Then I guess those worried hound dog looks were just your natural expression, huh?" 

Blair giggled from the bed. "Oh, man, you just got clowned. Good one, Doc." 

"Later, you two." 

Still huffing with feigned indignation, Jim complained, "I don't see what was so funny." 

"You do sort of look like a big old sad hound dog sometimes, Jim." 

"Well, hell, guess I'm a perfect match for my lost puppy dog then, huh, Chief." 

"You bet." The humor faded as Blair's expression tensed. "So, what do you think about all this?" 

"I'm thinking it's pretty damn scary. How about you?" 

"The same, I guess. Though I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday." 

"That's a good sign, Babe. I swear, I just know you're going to kick this thing." 

Blair settled back, trying to relax and taking a deep breath. "I'd like you to do me a favor, Jim." 

"Anything. You know that. What do you need?" 

Blair turned his head and surveyed the deep lines of concern. "It's okay, nothing big. I just wanted you to bring me my Walkman and some of my meditation tapes, especially my drums." 

Smiling Jim nodded, "Sure thing. Earth music, right?" 

"Right. I figure, if I can do some visualizing and focus on getting rid of this infection, it might help." 

"How are you going to do that, Chief?" 

Closing his eyes as he spoke, Blair switched into his story voice, "Sunlight floods across an expanse of emerald green, the kind of plush velvet green you can only find in the heat of summer in the jungle. I saw the scene once when I went to a mountain top in Peru. The knobby space lay wide open but with a circle of stony gray dotted with brush all around the far edge like some kind of battle ridge. Eagles fly and squawk from a distance and in the background waterfalls rush through thin, misty air. Tropical citrus teases and mingles with a curtain of stormy breezes. Coming up along the embankment I see an army of nasty invaders sneaking forward, wearing war masks streaked red and black for battle. That's the army of infection." 

"On my side I have a whole band of mounted warriors, all muscular men of honor. They're strapped and laced up in brown and black leather that's been decorated in talismans of the sun and one other talisman, the panther. In the lead is Jim Ellison, Sentinel. I see you leading all the armies of Cascade, all the Chopec, all the people who fight for good, coming to my rescue. Cool, huh?" 

Listening to his lover's rich and magical voice as he related his vision, tingled Jim's skin to gooseflesh. In his own mind he could actually see himself in such a role, but in his dream the panther stood real and strong, growling and ready to go into battle to save the guide. Taking Blair's hand, he raised the palm to kiss it. 

"You want earth music, love, then you'll have earth music. Hell, you want me to sing, I'll sing." 

"Man, let's not get carried away. I want to get well, remember." 

Pretending to be hurt, Jim fussed, "Hey, I can sing." 

"Yeah, best show tunes in town." 

"Santana, Chief." 

"Like I said, man, let's not get carried away." 

* * *

"Hell, Jim, what are you doing down here at the station? You're on leave, remember?" Simon came out of his office, cigar snug in his lips. 

"Yeah, I know, sir, but I was just picking up a CD for Blair." Slamming through his desk drawers, Jim came up empty. He put his hands on his hips and then scratched his head. "Hell, I know it was here, but now I can't find it." 

"Which one is it?" He came to stand beside his best detective, papers in hand, as if ready to start searching as well. 

"It's that damn drum tape he likes so much. I put it here so he wouldn't play it at home." 

"Sneaky, Jim." 

"Yeah, I know. He has to use the headphones here. Anyway, it was in the bottom drawer, but now it's not. Either Blair found it and moved it, or someone else did." 

"I don't know who that would be. Who else would listen to that stuff?" 

"Got me." Jim took a deep breath, sighing in disappointment. "Guess, I'd better hoof it over to that specialty shop and pray they have another copy." 

"What's the big deal about this particular CD, Jim?" 

"Nothing, sir." 

Noting Jim's sudden slump and tightness of tone, Simon ordered, "In my office." 

"Come on, Simon." 

"Now." Motioning his friend toward the door, Jim slowly rose and did as he was told. Settling behind his desk as Jim sat down, the captain asked, "You going to tell me what's going on? Is he worse?" 

"Not exactly. We're not sure. They're doing more tests." Deep lines shadowed the strong jaw. "We'll know more at the end of 24 hours. Anyway, Blair wants the tapes so he can meditate and visualize." 

"Meditate and visualize? Is that like think the shit away?" 

Snorting at his boss's comment, Jim grimaced. "Yeah, I thought the same thing. Seems the two of us are a couple of old-fashioned, cynical assholes, sir." 

"You think?" 

"Yeah, I do. But, Blair wants to do it and, we both know how powerful the mind is. It's better than sitting around worrying or doing nothing." 

"Well, if anyone can use his mind like a weapon, it's the kid." 

Jim smiled. "Got a mind like a torpedo. Always on target. Sure blasted my heart to high heaven. Anyway, I think he's better, but we just have to wait. And you know how good I am at patience." 

"Hell, I'm surprised you've held together this long. You do look like you got some sleep though." 

"Thanks, I did." He got up and stood by the window, arms tightly folded across his chest. "Did you know that Mapleton's lawyer went to see Blair?" 

"Then it's true?" Simon's voice gripped the words. 

"What?" 

The quiet pause brought Jim around to face his captain. 

"You're not going to like it, Jim." 

"Shit. What is it?" 

"Did Blair tell you that Mapleton's lawyer wants to make a deal?" 

"What kind of deal?" Jim edged closer to the desk, his throat almost too constricted to breathe. 

"I don't know for sure, but word is that Mapleton will agree to a mental evaluation if he can talk to Sandburg face to face. Anyway it would mean no public trial." 

The fist whipped through air to slam and rattle the desk. "No fucking way, Simon. There's no way I'm going to let that freak anywhere near him. You saw his place. You know what he really wants." 

"He's crazy, Jim. No doubt in my mind. If we can save the legal battle, maybe it would be worth it." 

"My god, Simon. You can't mean that. You saw those filthy letters, all those pictures. He just wants to fuck with his head and any other part he can get to. I can't let that happen. Blair's been through enough." 

Nodding patiently, remaining quiet, Simon sat still at his desk. Jim paced furiously back and forth for several minutes trying to calm his breathing. When he finally slowed down, the captain asked, "Don't you think that's up to the kid?" 

"I'm not going to tell him." 

Softening his voice as if talking to a child, Simon leaned forward. "Jim, you're not thinking clearly here. Don't you think he already knows? Don't you think the lawyer's already asked?" 

"Why wouldn't he tell me about it then?" Jim sat, staring down at the empty, helpless hands in his lap. 

"Blair understands you better than anyone. Don't you think he'd know how you'd react. Maybe he hasn't made up his mind yet. When he does, then he'll tell you." 

Raising a hand to massage a throbbing temple, Jim whispered, "Hell, Simon, when is this nightmare going to be over?" 

"Got me, but something tells me that it may get darker before long." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"I think that's Dave Hawthorne out by your desk." 

"Hawthorne?" 

"Mapleton's lawyer." 

"What the hell does he want?" 

Standing and heading for the door, he motioned for Jim to stay put. "I'll find out. Don't you even think about coming out here. You're officially off the case and off duty. You're not even supposed to be here." 

"Come on, Simon." 

"I'll find out what he wants. You, in the meantime, go get that CD and get back to Blair. Whatever happens with Mapleton is secondary to getting the kid back on his feet. Got that?" 

"Yeah, I got it." Hesitating slightly before he spoke, he cleared his throat. "Thanks, I didn't get to tell you before, but I appreciate everything you've done to help out." 

Seeing his friend's discomfort at expressing his feelings, Simon just smiled. "No problem. I like the kid. Without him tagging along, life is just too damn boring. Now, while I steer this asshole into the other room, move on out." 

"Yes, sir." 

"And tell Sandburg he'd better get his ass well pretty soon. You're not nearly as fun to yell at alone." 

"I'll see what I can do." 

"You better. And, Jim, let him make up his own mind about this. I know you don't want to, but think about it. It's something he may need to do, and if it is, he's going to need your support." 

Controlling the quick flush of anger, Jim closed his eyes. "I know, Simon. But, I might need your help on this, too." 

"How's that?" 

"You might need to handcuff me for awhile." 

"No kidding around, Jim." 

"I'm not kidding. If that puke gets Blair to talk to him, you might have to lock me away for awhile. I really don't know if I can handle it." 

"Just try, okay?" Simon worried about the strained expression and the jutting tendons pulsing like vipers in his friend's neck. "Jim, just talk to Blair. It's going to be all right." 

Even as the older man walked out to meet the lawyer, the words bounced with a hollow echo in his mind. Jim needed to find his own peace before he could help Blair, and Simon Banks, Captain of the Major Crimes detectives didn't have a clue what to do to help him find it. 

* * *

Jim walked into the hospital room just as the lab tech left with blood samples. As soon as the door shut, Blair glanced over and asked, "All right, Jim, what's wrong?" 

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" 

Tisking with his tongue, he teased, "Man, like I can't tell when you're upset? Did something happen or is it just being worried about me in general?" 

Not meeting his lover's eyes, Jim put the Walkman and CD's on the side table. He worked to control his breathing and to make his voice uninflected. "I talked to Simon. He said something about a possible deal with Mapleton." Catching the speeding up of Blair's vitals made it more difficult to reign his words in with the short lease. "You know something about that, Chief?" 

Frowning, Blair sank back and avoided Jim's eyes. "Honestly, I was going to tell you. I just wasn't sure how or when. I knew you'd be upset." 

"Damn straight I'm upset. I still don't get why you wouldn't tell me. Didn't I just get a lecture last night about keeping secrets. What was that, just some kind of one-sided thing? A rule for Ellison, but not Sandburg?" 

"Listen to you, man. You tell me why I might want to avoid the hassle." 

"Hassle? Chief, listen to me. I'm angry, but not at you. I'm upset you didn't say anything, but I'm pissed that we even have to be in this position because of that freak Mapleton." 

"And how do you think I feel about it, Jim? Do you have any idea what I'm feeling right now?" 

Moving to the bedside, Jim took his partner's cool hand. His voice gentle, he lifted and placed the palm against his chest. Blue eyes focused, he simply said, "Tell me." 

Trembling, Blair choked out the words. "It's like everybody wants a piece of me, you know. Mapleton won't let me go. His face is in my mind just like his uncle's. I thought I had all that under control, and then, bop, there it is again. Then along comes this being sick shit. People come in and take blood and urine every couple of hours, poke me with needles, a sample of this and a sample of that. All the time I'm sitting here trying to get my head in the right place, but nothing seems to be working. Help me out here, Jim. I'm not sure what to do." 

Gripping the hand a little tighter, Jim leaned in resting one elbow on the bed rail. Using the other he stroked back Blair's unruly curls. "It's going to be okay, Babe. Your fever's almost gone. I know those lazy ass kidneys of yours are going to be kicking in to work just as hard as the rest of your wonderful body pretty soon." 

Grinning almost bashfully as Jim continued to pet his hair, he sighed. "Man, that feels good. Keep doing that. I feel like a big old spoiled cat." 

"A panther maybe?" 

"Maybe." A bit more shyly he nudged. "What about Mapleton?" 

His expression grew serious as he lifted Blair's chin to stare into deep blue eyes. "We'll take care of that one together, Chief. I've thought about this really hard, and I've made up my mind that if you need to see him to finish this thing, then do it. I'll be on the other side of the glass watching, because that's the only way I'd let it go down if you decide it's something you have to do to have some kind of closure or whatever Dr. Ames would call it." 

Teasingly, Blair took a weak swipe at his mate. "You weren't really sleeping through those sessions after all, huh, Jim?" 

Grinning back, Jim lifted and kissed his lover's hand. "The only way to hear is to listen. I do listen from time to time, Chief. I just don't always want to go along with what I hear." 

"And this time?" 

"It's up to you, love." 

"I've got to think about it some more. Besides, right now my main deal is to get well and get out of here." 

Letting go, Jim hurried over to the other side and retrieved the Walkman and CD's. "Here. I brought you these for that meditation you wanted to do." 

Sorting through the plastic cases, Blair stopped short when he came to two new ones. Near howling, he laughed. "Man, you are so wild." 

Jim feigned innocence badly. "What?" 

"Santana's Greatest Hits? I hope you brought an extra Walkman." 

"Sure thing, Chief. You visualize and I'll jam over here. Earth music, real music, side by side. Works for me." 

Blair shook his head in amazement as his Sentinel reached over with the glee of a kid at Christmas to snatch up his nifty new stuff. 

* * *

"Good news, gentlemen." Dr. Norman breezed into the hospital room bright and early, carrying his clipboard and smile. 

"Good news? What?" Jim stood at Blair's bedside, nervously holding his lover's hand. 

"Yes, indeed. Your results are much improved and I'd say that you should be out of here as soon as tomorrow." 

"Why not today?" Blair squeezed his Jim's hand, trying to hide his disappointment. 

"Well, we need to be sure you can tolerate the oral meds you'll still need to take for the infection. Overall, I'm very pleased with your progress." 

"Me, too, Doc." Jim beamed. Relief swelled his chest and his breathing rippled with the pleasant thrill of success. 

"All I need for you to do today is to just rest and keep doing whatever it is that seems to be helping. We'll continue to monitor your blood and urine, and, if all goes well, you should be sleeping in your own bed soon." 

"That's really great, man. I just wish it were today. Nothing personal, but this place sucks." 

Grinning broadly, Dr. Norman agreed. "I'm also going to give you some more things to read. When you do go home, you're going to need plenty of rest and I'm going to put you on a more balance diet. You'll also need to come in for regular bloodwork and urinalysis to track your condition. Other than that, you should be back to a regular schedule in a few weeks." 

A flutter of heartbeat alerted sentinel ears. Growing strangely quiet, Blair whispered, "What kind of diet?" 

"Mr. Sandburg, you're underweight by almost 25 pounds for your height and frame. Now, from your muscle tone, I can tell you do exercise, but when you get sick like this, there's no reserve. Being that thin puts as much, if not more, strain on your body systems as being overweight would." 

Angrily, Blair jerked his hand from Jim's firm hold and crossed his arms. His face flushed, he growled angrily, "Man, I don't believe this." 

"Listen, Babe, if the doctor says you need to eat, then you eat." 

"Shut up, Jim. I don't want to hear this." 

The older man clenched his jaw and struggled to speak evenly. "Settle down and listen. It's not like he's talking about force feeding you or anything here." 

Confused by the reaction, Dr. Norman followed up. "I'm just talking about trying to add a few pounds a month, just to build up your strength and mass. Nothing drastic. Is there a problem I should know about?" 

Remaining silent, Blair's normally lush lips tensed into thin lines. Jim searched his lover's stubborn face and then glanced over at the doctor shrugging wide shoulders. "Sorry, Doc. He gets like this sometimes." 

Gritting his teeth, Blair suddenly unlocked his jaw and hissed, "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, Jim." 

"Then speak for yourself and explain to us what's wrong. I mean, I've seen you do this for the last 5 months. Every time somebody tries to feed you or talks about you being too thin, you get all crazy. Even Dr. Ames couldn't get you to explain. I'm at a loss here. What's going on? Help us understand this, Chief?" 

Blair's gaze misted over, his eyes unfocused. He pretended to speak only to Jim. "After the rape, you kept poking food at me. I know you meant well. You just didn't seem to know what else to do. For months afterwards I really didn't want to eat, couldn't eat without pain." 

"Pain? You mean physical pain?" 

"At first it was physical. It hurt to eat and then go to the bathroom. After what Young did, it was just hard, you know. Everything just basically sucked. I didn't want to have anything to do with my body. Sometimes I would even pretend I wasn't in my body, but some place else. It was someone else eating and shitting and doing whatever had to be done. I know that sounds crazy, and maybe it was, because most of the time I couldn't get away from myself. I was stuck with being me." 

"Damn it, Blair. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Tell you what? That eating meant that I would have to deal with something I really didn't want to deal with at all? That it pretty much disgusted me to have to constantly be reminded every time I had to go the bathroom or take a shower or touch myself in any way that I'd been so damaged?" 

Moaning almost to himself, Jim fought tearful stings. "Baby, I'm so sorry." 

Finally, Blair turned to meet Jim's cloudy blue eyes, his voice soft and soothing. "Calm down, man. It's no big deal. I just had a mini-mental breakdown here. I just realized that the not eating was my way of controlling the pain I felt. In my own twisted little head, the deal was that if I didn't eat, I wouldn't have to be reminded. Doc here just brought the demon to the surface without any warning, that's all. I guess I just sort of snapped for a minute." 

"Sorry about that, Mr. Sandburg. I had no idea this was such a sensitive issue. I am, however, glad you're working with Dr. Ames. She's an excellent trauma specialist. She's got a lot more experience in this area than I do." Thank god. 

"See, not every doctor thinks he knows everything, Blair." 

"Cut it out, Jim. I just made an ass of myself. It's not funny. Look, I'll check out the diet, but I can't make any promises. As for the rest of it, that's not a problem." 

Enormously relieved, Dr. Norman breathed easier. "That's all I can ask. You're dealing with a very difficult problem here. It's one that thankfully I've never run into before, but I really can understand why you'd be troubled. I'm not sure what I can do to help except to say, I'll work with you in whatever way makes you most comfortable." 

Sheepishly, Blair spoke weakly, "Thanks, Doc." 

"You're welcome. Now, get some rest and I'll see you later." 

As the door clicked shut, Jim turned his full attention to his mate. "You scared me there for a minute, buddy." 

"Sorry, Jim, but I think I scared me a little bit, too. Jesus, I can't believe I've gotten so warped." 

Reaching over, Jim touched the back of his young friend's neck and gently rubbed, massaging the tension he sensed there. Very slowly the circular pressure eased the tightness. "You're not warped, Babe. Don't worry about it. We'll get it straightened out now that we know what's wrong." 

"But it's so hard, Jim. Everything just seems so fucked up." Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back completely to the cup of his lover's hand. 

While supporting the skull, Jim took his other and ran it down the front of Blair's chest. His sensitive fingers traced each tight curl beneath the thin hospital cloth. Breathing slowed and steady, the heartbeat settled to an even pulse against skin. "Just rest, Chief. Go to sleep and know I'll be here. I'll always be here. Just rest." The soothing crooning matched the cadence of vital rhythms as Blair drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

"It's too soon, Simon. Look at him. He's not ready." 

Gazing through the two-way glass at Blair Sandburg sitting in the interview room brought chills to Simon's skin. The young man appeared even thinner over the last few weeks and heavy shadows bearded his pale face. Even so, the blue eyes remained focused and clear. 

"It's his decision, Jim. He said he wanted to get it over with. Let him do it and put it behind him." 

"I want to, sir, but this is too much even for me. I swear, I feel like I'm going to throw up." 

Chewing anxiously on the cigar, Simon took in his friend's strong features turned harsh, all the square lines clenched tight. The jaw muscles twitched into overdrive. "Try to ease up a little, Jim. Besides if you do lose it, it won't be the first time. I might have to join you myself. This is going to be a rough ride. Even so, the kid's tough. He's up to it." 

"How can you say that? Look at him. A puff of wind would blow him away." The throaty words sounded choked. 

"Jim, have a little faith. He's your guide and your partner. He's as strong as any man I've ever known." 

Pride-filled eyes focused in on Simon Banks. "Thank you, sir. You're right. He's a hell of a lot stronger than I am." 

"Don't sell yourself short, Jim. You're both quite a team. That's why it's important that he get this out of his system. If he can deal with this guy now, we can send Mapleton off and things can get back to what passes for normal around here." 

Just as he finished speaking, they heard the door open. All attention focused on the two men on the other side of the glass. 

Nathan Mapleton, dressed in prison fatigues, hobbled in, his hands and feet in chains. The uncanny physical resemblance of the two men unnerved the nearby sentinel and the captain. The prisoner's blue eyes fixed on Blair as he managed to sit down in the chair. 

"Hey, Blair. I'm glad you could come. I've missed you." 

"Cut the shit, Mapleton. I'm here because you said you'd give up the trial and go straight to the hospital. Don't imagine it's anything more." 

"So, that's how you want to play it then? Just go to the bottom line? No old times? No trip down memory lane with a soulmate?" 

Pain webbed Blair's face with lines. Even through the wall, Jim could hear his lover's heart pounding way too fast, his breathing edging toward ragged. "You're sick, Mapleton. I know what your uncle did and I'm sorry for that, but I'm not in that picture." 

"Sure you are, Blair. You've been part of it long before my uncle attacked you. You just didn't know it." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" The voice sounded like the short high-pitched whine of a tripwire right before an explosion. 

Cocking his head, still smiling, Mapleton lowered his voice so the guard couldn't hear. "Do you think my uncle went after you because of that fucking tumor in his head? Well, he didn't. I saw you over a year ago. I saw you and wanted you right away. I started following and taking pictures. God, the camera loves you, your face, your ass, your whole being. I hope you know you're fucking gorgeous." 

Blair shook his head totally confused. "I'm not understanding you here. Are you saying you've been stalking me for over a year?" 

"Sure. Ask your man Ellison to take you out to my place sometime and take a look. He's seen it all I'm sure." 

Coming up out of the chair, Blair ran his hand through his mass of curls. Shifting his glance from the mirror and back to Mapleton, he swallowed in bewilderment. "This makes no sense to me." 

"You want to know how my uncle came to want to hurt you so bad?" 

Ice bathed his veins as Blair forced himself back into the seat across from his tormentor. "Tell me." 

"He saw my room. He saw all those pictures. At first he was amused, but when he started fucking me and roughing me up, I started pretending it was you. When I called out your name, man, he got so pissed, I thought he was going to kill me. Couldn't walk for a week." 

"Jesus, I think I'm going to be sick." Gagging, Blair covered his mouth and barely made it to the trash can. 

Sounds of heaving followed by uneven breathing almost brought Jim into the room. Simon's hand held him back. "Let him finish this. He'd call you in if he wanted you there. The guard can help if he needs it." 

Back in the other room, Mapleton waited for Blair to finally make his way back to the chair, slumping down with exhaustion. "Better?" 

"Just tell me the rest, Mapleton." 

"Nathan, please. I don't like to be called Mapleton, especially by you. I'll bet you don't call your lover Ellison." 

"Don't put his name in your mouth. Now, tell me the rest of it." 

"Ouch, Blair. Suddenly so butch. I like that. It works for you. Anyway, when my uncle realized I wanted you instead of him, it drove him crazy." 

"Like he wasn't already apeshit anyway?" 

"True. Don't get me wrong. I loved my uncle, but he was a little nuts. Even so, he was the only family I had since I was little. I mean, what's a kid to do, you know. Uncle wants to fuck your ass, you let him do it, right? What was I supposed to do? I had nobody else, Blair, nobody until you." 

"Oh, god." 

"Don't be that way. You really did give me something else to feel rather than disgust. When I looked at you, I saw sunshine. You were always so happy, so full of energy. I still don't understand why you'd hook up with that Neanderthal Ellison." 

His voice full of warning, his fists on the table, Blair leaned forward. "I told you not to say his name. Don't do it again, or I'm out of here. Got it?" 

Sitting back a little straighter, Mapleton eyed Blair more closely. "Damn, Blair. Please don't tell me you really love him. I thought it was just because he was like my uncle." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"He's so big like my uncle. You let him fuck you because he can protect you, take care of you. It can't be because you really love him." 

Shaking his head in a silent pity, Blair finally fathomed the sickness in front of him. "I'm not you, Nathan. Believe it or not, I do understand what you're saying. But Jim and I are not you and your uncle, not by a long shot. You didn't let your uncle do anything. He was the one who raped and molested you your whole life. He messed with your head so much that you've got no idea what real love's about. For that, I am truly sorry. You need help and I hope you get it." 

"But with me, it's totally different. I love Jim with all my heart and he loves me. Now, some people like you, your uncle, and a ton of others have tried to break that bond, but it's not going to happen. Short of death, nothing will stop my love for that man. Now, I don't know what I have to do to get that through your thick skull, but you'd damn well better know this. I hope you find some kind of peace in your life, but it's not going to have anything to do with me. I never want to hear from you or have anything to do with you ever again." 

Tears streamed down Mapleton's face as he formed raspy words. "How can you do this to me, Blair? After everything that's happened, how can you do this to me? I love you." 

"Then let me go, man. You're killing me with all this. I belong with Jim." 

"Shit. You're just like everyone else then, huh? Fuck me and leave me." 

"Jesus, Nathan. I never touched you." 

"In my mind you did. At the cabin you were all mine. In my mind you loved me." 

"But in reality I never did." 

An intense glare locked onto Blair's focus. "My mind is reality. Now you're a heartless bitch who's betrayed me. I'll never forgive you, Blair. Never. Just get the fuck away from me." 

The young guide stood, pushing the chair back with a loud scraping thump. "I'm so out of here, I never came." The guard quickly let him into the hallway. 

Before Blair could make it into the other room to meet with Jim and Simon, Mapleton turned a hateful glare toward the glass. In the lowest of whispers, he hissed. "Don't get too comfortable, Ellison. I've touched him in the dark. He'll never be all yours. Never." 

Simon Banks grabbed his friend before he could smash through the glass, and wrestled him back to the other wall. "Settle down, Jim. He's taunting you. Don't play his game." 

Still struggling, Jim barely heard his lover come into the room. Blair took in the scene as the two huge men braced together against the wall. Walking over quietly, he put a firm hand on his lover's back before he spoke. "Jim, stop it. I'm okay now." Sensing the only slightly relaxing of muscles, he turned to Simon. "Let him go. He promises to behave, don't you, Jim?" 

Nodding weakly, tears wetting his cheeks, the sentinel came away from Simon and dropped to his knees. Blair immediately cradled his head in his arms and drew him to his chest, shushing and rocking. "It's okay, Jim. I'm all right this time. I'm here." Over and over, rubbing the top of his lover's head, the words repeated a constant comfort. Slightly embarrassed at witnessing such intimacy, Simon made a hasty and discreet retreat. Even so, the image of big Jim Ellison suffering and soothed in the arms of such powerful love haunted his mind. For the first time in months, the captain actually believed in hope, believed in the possibility of liberation and reprieve. A satisfied smile dressed his face as he brought out a cigar to puff and ponder while he stood watch for his friends behind the door. 

* * *

Lying propped up in the bed, Blair lay back listening to his lover putter in the kitchen. The clinking of cups and aroma of fresh coffee teased his nose. The thud of Jim's heavy footsteps brought him upstairs to sit next to the young man. The sentinel's hand reached out to tenderly stroke the morning fresh jaw, the light whiskers like fine sandpaper to hungry skin. 

"Morning, Chief." 

Placing his own hand on top of Jim's, Blair turned his head enough to kiss the palm. With a playful flick of tongue, he licked each finger, getting a deep groan and tremble as reward. Smiling slyly, he asked, "Like that?" 

"God, eat me for breakfast and I'm in heaven." 

Chuckling, Blair watched as Jim drank in the sensation, his eyes squeezed almost painfully shut. "Climb over here and lie back, Jim. Come on." Guiding Jim's shaking body to the center of the bed, he commanded, "Raise those hips a little for me, love." As Jim lifted himself up, the younger man tugged boxers down and off. 

Naked, Blair straddled hips and leaned forward, chest to chest bringing both hands up, one on each side of Jim's face. Nimble fingers edged an outline down the jaw, then the neck, across the collarbone, to the nipples. Muscles tensed and released beneath him as each nub grew hot and stiff. 

"Oh, god, Blair, don't stop. It's been so long." 

Lightly he whispered, "I know, love, I know." He nibbled along the neck, muscles tensing like strong bands. As Jim's erect cock pushed at his abdomen, Blair slid down moving sentinel thighs apart. Kneeling there, he watched the glistening precum leak and sparkle on the tip. With one hand cupping the balls, the other guided the crown between parted lips. The heated richness of hard silky flesh pushed to his throat as Jim jerked upward in surprise, the groan almost a roar. Slowly, between his tongue and the top of his mouth, he suckled and teased, lapped and licked. Moving faster, his whole head moved as Jim Ellison pumped away at his mouth, his fingers intertwined in Blair's dark curls. A sudden low moan and Jim stopped all movement, his breathing trapped in another world. Salt and musk married to thick, oily cream. After a few moments, hips fell back to the bed and the young man raised his head. 

Still licking his bruised lips when Jim finally opened his eyes, Blair smiled contentedly. "Nothing like breakfast in bed." 

Reaching out a lazy hand, Jim pulled his lover up into his arms. "You are so bad, Babe." 

"You love me though, right?" 

"Oh, yes, definitely. Loves in the mix." Feeling the still erect cock nudging into his leg, Jim brought down a greedy hand. "Oh my, Chief. Look what I found." 

Resting his head on broad chest, Blair pumped his hips into Jim's talented fist. Stomach muscles already aroused and tight, flashes of blue and red exploded quickly behind closed lids. A rush of warm fluid sprayed and dripped, the heavy scent mingled with earlier musk. Jim's nostrils flared and he reeled from the headrush of pleasure. His guide's heartbeat finally slowed and the sentinel reintroduced himself to breathing. 

"Jesus, Blair, we've got to do this more often so we don't hurt ourselves." 

Sleepily, the young man nuzzled his face against bare chest and snuggled in for a deeper hug. "Why? This is so great. I like intense." 

"But too quick. We're as bad as horny teenagers. We barely touch each other and we're done for." 

Laughing lightly, Blair tickled and teased one of Jim's nipples so near his face. "You saying I'm easy, Jim?" 

"Well, if you are, then I am, too." 

"Guess we're both just a couple of slutty fellows. Then again, that's not necessarily a bad thing, is it? I mean, this felt pretty good to me. You complaining?" 

"Hell, no. Just thought I'd mention that next time maybe we should last more than a couple of minutes." 

Talking between licks and sentinel groans, Blair spoke huskily. "Look at it this way. We could redefine the word quickie. Just think. We could have it here," another lick and suck, "at the station," nibbling and chewing, "in the truck," full force suctioning, "on stake-out." Jim grunted and yelled incoherently while he came one more time. 

Blair waited patiently until the older man could actually form words. "Oh, my god, Chief. You're going to kill me here." 

"I don't think so, Jim. I mean, seriously, we're both strong. It's time to move on, don't you think? I mean, I know there'll be occasional setbacks, but we're both better now. We're bound forever no matter what, right?" 

Noting the serious tone and expression, Jim let his soul be captured by deep blue. The sentinel and guide connected and melded together. 

"Forever, Babe." 

A wickedly playful smile graced enchanted lips. "So, Jim, man of my dreams, we now have plenty of time to do more tests. I haven't been up to those in awhile, but I'm suddenly starting to feel very academic again, sort of like I might really need to do some more research." 

"Research?" Eyeing his lover with suspicion, Jim took in the grin. 

"Yeah, like just how many ways can a horny sentinel come?" 

Feeling the curious hand tormenting his flagging erection, Jim moaned one more time and surrendered peacefully. "You're the guide, Chief. Lead away." 

"Never away, Jim." Kissing his lover's forehead, he spoke as if from a far off vision, "Never away." 

Lying curled together, warmed by the other's heat, both men settled into rich comfort, a retreat into salvation of both body and soul. A victory roar rumbled from the foot of the bed, as the sentinel guarded both his guide and his life. The animal spirit purred and licked itself in satisfaction. Jim Ellison had finally found peace. 

The End 


End file.
